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Lost in nothingness, I look for unformed words.Insides bursting, verses still not finding a way.Victory, defeat, murder - everything seems uninspiring.In the cauldron of wordlessness, the creator is killed.Numbing nerves collapse, I give up.Going for a walk might rescue, I assume.

Withering leaves, dry roads, dusty paths - no one cares.In a flash, a young thing gets trampled.Truck or a carrier - I know not what. They ask me,
"Have you noted its number ?"

A shrug answers it all - "I have been running away from numbers", I scream.

People disperse, crowds gossip, ambulance arrives at last.
"One down, millions to go", someone shouts.Evening falls, birds go home and I choose to follow.Maybe I need to check some numbers now.